Page 14 of Den of Iniquity

The next afternoon found me perusing the frozen food section of our local Safeway. Since Mel had an after-work meeting that evening, I wanted to buy a microwavable meal that would allow someone with limited cooking skills to provide a reasonable facsimile of a family dinner. That’s when my phone rang with an unrecognized 206 number. Despite the fact that I suspected it to be a spam call, I went ahead and answered.

“Hey, Beau,” someone said. “Ben Weston here. How’re you doing?”

Ben Weston is actually Benjamin Harrison Weston Jr., someone I first encountered when he was a five-year-old kid who was the only survivor of a horrific home invasion in which both his parents, his older brother, and his brother’s best friend had all been murdered. Ben had been playing hide-and-seek with the older boys and had fallen asleep in a closet when the killers entered the home. That washow he had escaped being killed along with everyone else. Shortly before that incident, a local radio station had initiated the Teddy Bear Patrol, providing stuffed bears in the vehicles of first responders. That crime scene was the first time in my career as a Seattle homicide cop that I had deployed the Teddy Bear Patrol stuffed bear stowed in the trunk of my unmarked. Sadly enough, that wasn’t the only time I needed one.

After the deaths of his parents, little Benny had been raised by his aunt and uncle. His father had been a Seattle cop, and as an adult, Ben Jr. had followed in those footsteps. The last time I’d had any dealings with him had been several years earlier. At the time he’d been working undercover for Seattle PD.

“Ben!” I exclaimed. “Delighted to hear from you. How are you doing these days?”

“Not too shabby,” he said. “I joined the detective division, and I’m working Homicide these days. Scotty’s desk is the next one over. He says hello, by the way.”

Like Ben, my son, Scott, had also followed in his father’s footsteps. When he joined Seattle PD, he was initially assigned to the Tech unit, but he, too, had recently moved over to investigations.

“Tell him hello back,” I said. “What’s going on with you?”

“Well, my son’s a junior in high school, and my daughter’s about to graduate from eighth grade. They’re both honors students.”

I was stunned. “Congratulations,” I managed lamely.

I had no idea that Ben was even married to say nothing of having kids that old. Time flies when you’re not paying attention.

“How’s Bellingham treating you?” he asked.

“Not bad,” I said.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and found a woman with a shopping cart standing behind me with her eyes shootingdaggers in my direction. Obviously she needed to get past me to reach that section of frozen entrees.

“Do you mind?” she demanded.

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping aside.

“What was that?” Ben asked.

“I was talking to someone else,” I told him. “You were saying?”

“I hear you’re working as a PI now.”

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually, there is. I need a favor.”

Remembering that shattered and newly orphaned little boy clutching his teddy bear, there was nothing in my power that I wouldn’t do for him.

“Sure thing,” I said. “Name it.”

“After my folks passed, there was this lady at church named Matilda Jackson. She was my Sunday school teacher, and she always looked out for me. I didn’t find out until much later that she and my mother had been good friends. She always asked about how I was doing and if there was anything I needed. Now she’s the one who needs help. It’s about her grandson. He’s a lot younger than I am, so he isn’t someone I know personally.”

“Is the grandson in trouble?” I asked.

“He’s dead,” Ben responded. “That’s why she needs help.”

This wasn’t something to be discussed in the frozen food aisle. “I’m actually in a grocery store right now,” I explained. “How about if you text me her contact info, and I’ll be in touch?”

“Whatever the charges are...” Ben began.

“Don’t worry about any charges,” I told him. “As far as you’re concerned there won’t be any. As I said, just send me her info.”

“Will do,” Ben replied. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

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